


Everything's the same, just a little bit broken.

by undisguised



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undisguised/pseuds/undisguised
Summary: She wonders what would happen if this were to be another day and everyone would still be alive, and not as broken as they are now. Would she have had the skills to kill the fly?//Nadia thinks about stuff.





	Everything's the same, just a little bit broken.

**Author's Note:**

> Ha! First time in months I actually finish writing something. I noticed there's a pattern, it mostly happens whenever I have a really important test to take the following day. Oh well...
> 
> It' so hard to write Nadia, so I just did it without much thinking, I hope I do her justice.

Marina is dead and Nadia is stuck at the store trying to kill a fly that has been roaming around the apples and the oranges for what seems to be almost an hour. 

After ten minutes, she just lets it be, after all, she knows that she’s just trying to chase it not because she cares, she just wants to keep her mind occupied, ignoring the fact that she should be attending Marina’s funeral instead. It didn’t work so she spared its life. 

She wonders what would happen if this were to be another day and everyone would still be alive, and not as broken as they are now. Would she have had the skills to kill the fly? It didn’t matter anyway, in a few days she’d find it, legs upside down, grazing the floor of the store, with no other fly to mourn them.

That’s right, it didn’t matter what she thought, what could happen, or  _what didn’t happen_. It only mattered that Marina was hit on the head with an object she valued so preciously in the past she might have done something gruesome ( _never murdering_ ) to get it in her hands. 

The winged victory of Samothrace was supposed to be for her. It was supposed to represent moving forwards for a teenage Muslim girl who got observed more for her hijab than for her looks; it was supposed to give her a new path in her life, to a life of success most girls like her would only dream of. So far, the only girl she’s ever seen go that far was her sister, and she doesn’t even know where she is; she might be dead or thriving in the big city, she preferred not to think about it.

The wings of victory turned into dark; the kiss of death. Samuel only muttered “I felt it,” nothing else, when she saw him for the first time after the news broke out. 

Maybe Samuel wasn’t invited to the funeral either.

He was probably devastated; so were Lu, Ander, Carla, maybe even Polo. 

She wonders what kind of relationship she had with Polo, he’s been quieter than usual, more alert. Maybe he doesn’t care about Marina and he is just experiencing true loss for the first time, especially now that Carla dumped him. 

This was too much for everyone, even for her. She already cried once, and now she’s stuck in the counter of the store, trying to keep her cool while eyeing an old lady trying to figure out the difference between one brand of lentils and the other.

It was hard to think about it, especially when she thinks about Marina´s family,  _especially_ Guzman. She ponders about the double tick. _Seen at 8:31 AM_ , a minute after she sent her condolences. She called, he didn’t pick up. He’s still mourning, rightfully so. 

She didn’t expect to hurt so much for him, she thinks about what it would be like to lose Omar. Words cannot possibly describe what he is feeling at the moment, she figures so while handing the change to the lady.

If it wasn’t for her father telling her to stay put, she’d be there in a second. He told her to go by tomorrow, but there was no use in arguing with him about how Christian traditions were different from Muslim ones, and that by tomorrow it’ll be too late. 

 _She stayed put_ , muttering a little prayer whenever she was alone at the store. 

Omar was nowhere in sight, probably cheering up Ander. And it wasn’t fair, Marina was- no,  _is_  her friend and Guzman is... well, he just is. 

He is someone she cares more than she would like to admit, someone she doesn’t want to see suffering, someone who she’d come running for.

Marina once gave her blessing to Nadia, she told her she was probably the only person she could stand to see her brother with. Normally she would object but even she could stand the idea of kissing him, despite how wrong it was. She doesn’t like him for the thrill, for the lust, for the good looks, she just likes him, because despite the differences they are more alike than she cares to admit for.

“You and I... we’re not so different.” Guzman smiled at her one afternoon, sitting at the famous stairs of las Encinas. The ones that gave a panoramic view of the hall were everything happened: Polo, Carla and Christian throwing taunting glances at each other, Ander passing sneaky texts (probably Omar) in his phone by his locker, Nike of Samothrace glinting inside the unbreakable glass at the end of the hall; and Marina, who stood next to the glass and smiled at them while sharing her earphones with Samuel, who tapped his foot against the floor rhythmically.

Nadia stared at Guzman, one eyebrow raised. “Keep dreaming... Maybe we’re ambitious and driven, but at the end of the days we don’t share the same values.” Back then, she kept trying to fight it, figuring that maybe if she said it as sharp as she could, he would get the drill and stop trying to make a fool out of both of them.

But he is driven after all. “Maybe we’re from different religions, so what? They all start from the same basis.” 

“Which is?”

Guzman reached for inside his shirt and crutched at his cross with his hand. “Love,” he muttered so lowly that it might seem like a confession. She stared at the cross, eyes melting the pure gold it was carved from. She remembers thinking how unfair it was that Guzman could conceal his faith under his shirt and not feel guilty about it, but shortly after she stared at his eyes and all the negativity, guilt and regret disappeared. 

Now that she remembers, he was right. 

So, she grabbed a twenty from the cash register and left the store, turning the open sign into the closed one. She was wearing a black pants and shirt combo but her hijab was still pink. Hopefully with the money she could buy a black one and still have money left for her bus ticke-

_Crap._

“Nadia! What are you doing outside the store?” Her father didn’t sound mad, just surprised. 

She stared at the euros in her hand and back at her father. “There wasn’t any change left so I decided to go ask for some.” 

Her father nodded and extended her hand. “Don’t worry, give it to me and I’ll go search for some.”

Nadia tried to smile, even though it took everything not to cause a flood. “Thank you Babba.” 

She went back to warming her seat. She stared back at the fly, who now shook it horrid hands together on top of a pear.

She tried not to think about Guzman; hopefully he’ll open the door tomorrow and it’ll be just like months ago, just more broken, but not more distant. 

And she tried not to think that her last chance to see Marina was gone; she tries to forget that now she’s just stuck with the memory of her dancing in the crowd at the school dance, swaying into oblivion with the beat of the music.

**Author's Note:**

> Critique is always welcome! :)


End file.
